(Not Used To) Having A Family
by mashamallows
Summary: Watch the Avengers interact on a daily basis, getting to know each other, being an overall adorable family./ Parents!Avengers for Peter Parker. Natasha centric.
1. TOW the garbage cat

**Who couldn't help herself and started a story, not even a day after writing Wanting To Forget? Yep, this girl right here. Enjoy.**

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TOW the garbage cat

Natasha Romanoff was never a cat person. She was barely a person, to begin with. She's always been ice-cold, levelheaded, collected. Oh boy, you should see her now.

"Here, kitty!" She whispered gently, crouching down to look as non-threatening as possible. The blond kitten with the blue eyes (she has already decided that she wanted to call it Clint) just looked at her with its huge eyes, blinked twice, and did not move.

It looked like it was sizing her up, and Natasha was starting to get antsy. Her knees were killing her because she's been in the same position for too long, and she was freezing.

And, just like the world wanted to fuck with her, it started snowing.

She looked up at the sky, feeling the snowflakes gather in her hair, with unusual disdain. People who look up to the sky normally do so in pure admiration, worship, prayer.

But no, Natasha Romanoff decided that if the sky was a person, she would punch their lights out.

She sighed, propped up her hood over hair, and got a millimeter closer to the kitten, which jumped a foot back.

"A step forward, ten back, aren't we," Natasha grumbled, then looked around her, trying to think of a way to get the kitten to trust her.

To say Natasha wanted the kitten badly was an understatement. Natasha needed the kitten. And she needed it now.

So she had to think. She had to use her super-spy brain –as Clint liked to call it– to find a way to make the kitten like her. She couldn't even make her teammates like her. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

She sighed, and plopped down on the ground, putting her head in her hands. It was an awful day. An honest-to-god awful day.

It had started with her favorite gym machine at the Stark Tower broken. She had merely been annoyed by the inconvenience, thinking that it was probably Thor and his oh-so-graceful self who broke it.

Then, when she got down to the garage, to go to S.H.I.E.L.D, she found, instead of her beautiful Black Porsche, a pink sticky note stating the obvious– that Clint went ahead and took it for a ride of his own volition, probably to impress women.

She had shaken her head and decided to hail a cab. She stood outside the Stark Tower for 15 minutes before a cab finally stopped in front of her. She arrived 30 minutes late and got an earful from Fury, who had decided as if just to fuck with her, that he had time to deal with meaningless shit (like her tardiness) instead of being busy with his usual top-secret shit.

That was about when she started to think that this day was cursed.

When she got to the training yard, where she was supposed to train the new recruits, she found them laughing and talking, but that quickly changed as soon as they saw her. They fell silent immediately, and she thought that maybe this day was starting to get better. She was wrong.

After a successful training session with the little shits, she felt her stomach grumble, so she went to the cafeteria for a quick snack before heading to her office, to complete some paperwork.

The little shits apparently decided to pull a prank on her, and she was so focused on the fries she was going to eat –with some cheesy sauce and a Caesar salad, yum– that she didn't notice the oil all over the stairs leading to the cafeteria.

She slipped and broke her wrist. Oh, joy. She didn't get her fries and salad. She got a splint and another earful instead. The culprit wasn't even caught.

Now here she was, on her way back home from S.H.I.E.L.D, car-less, sitting in the dirt, and hoping to be approached by a kitten. It really was a shitty day.

The kitten meowed as if to ask what was wrong with her, and Natasha sighed.

Her wrist hurt, her butt hurt, she was freezing, hungry, and–she looked at her watch, late to pick Peter up from school. The Avengers had decided to adopt him as one of their own after he proved himself a valuable asset. He now lived in the Stark Tower, along with his aunt, who cooks them dinner every night. She was nice.

She pulled up her phone and dialed Clint, who answered after a few seconds.

"Yeah?"

"You son of a bitch," she grumbled, her hood falling from her head as she slumped against a wall in the alley where she decided to have her mental breakdown.

"Sorry, Tasha. I just wanted to-"

"Save it, asshole. Just go pick up Peter from school. I was supposed to, but some jerk took my car joyriding."

"Hey! I drive very safely-"

She just sighed and hung up.

The kitten was eying her, its head tilted sideways. She rolled her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "If you hate me too, I get it, I do." She winced involuntarily- she was talking to a cat. A _cat_. "I'm just gonna go. Maybe I can pick up a sandwich on the way home," she murmured to herself, rubbing her eyes tiredly. She started to get up, with some difficulty (she fell on her hip too- if she had to walk like an old lady, she was going to _fucking scream_ ), but the cat meowed loudly.

She raised an eyebrow, looking at it expectantly. "What?"

It meowed loudly, again. It looked like it could pound its foot on the ground in a temper tantrum if it were a toddler.

She sat down slowly, almost disbelievingly, and looked at the cat, waiting for it to make the move she knew it was gonna make.

It started stalking towards her slowly, eying her warily. When it finally got to her, it didn't waste a second, immediately hopping into her lap. It padded around for a few seconds, leaving dirty paw prints on her jeans, before settling into a tiny blond ball, purring in content.

Natasha looked at it in surprise, before smiling, scratching the cat slowly behind the ear. A low chuckle escaped her throat, as she threw her head back, looking at the sky.

She didn't know if she was capable of this kind of pure love one holds for its pet. She has been taught long ago that love was a weakness, that love was compromising. Clint was probably the only exception. The young Parker was starting to slowly worm his way into her heart. As were her teammates- albeit slower, she must admit. Her Red Room ways were starting to fade, finally, after decades of working for S.H.I.E.L.D

Looking down at the golden kitten between her hands, she smiled softly and thought that maybe, _maybe,_ she could try.

She picked it up, struggling to her feet, using the wall for support, and walked slowly under the snow towards the Stark Tower.

Some people legit thought that she was a homeless person wandering around, and offered to find her something to eat, and a place to sleep for the night. She glared at them with all her might, promptly scaring them away.

When she got to the Tower, with her wrist in a splint, a limp, dirt all over her clothes and face, and a small kitten in her arms, everyone thought that she got into a street fight. She rolled her eyes and made her way towards Stark, standing in front of him, clearly uncomfortable.

She shifted from foot to foot, looking anywhere but at the man, who raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Can I… Can I keep it- him? Clint. His name is Clint," she asked with uncertainty in her voice.

Tony felt his heart slightly break for Natasha, though he didn't exactly know what warranted this reaction. She just looked so scared, as if she expected him to say no. She looked attached to the kitten already, and by the looks of it, it was attached to her too.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course, Jesus, Natasha. You can do whatever you want. It's your home." He sat up straighter and smiled at her as convincingly as he could. As if he didn't just see a part of her ugly past reflect in her green eyes.

She smiled shakily at him, before looking at the cat, cooing at it softly, and made her way to the elevator, disappearing to her floor.

The Avengers stayed silent for a few seconds after that, before Peter slowly whispered a "What's wrong with Tasha?"

Clint smiled sadly, before ruffling the kid's hair. "She's still not used to having a family."

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 **Hope you liked this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Expect more humor, fluff, and family time with Earth's Mightiest Heroes in the next installment!**

 **Reviews warm my heart :3**


	2. TOW grandmomma spider (1)

**Hi guys! Welcome to a new chapter of this story! Thanks for the monumental amount of feedback, you guys rock :3**

 **This chapter has a part 2, already written, so it'll be updated really soon. Hope you like this.**

 **Keep in mind that I'm following the MCU, so Natasha is _not_ as old as Cap in this.**

 **Also, I'll be adding titles from now on. The previous chapter will be known as The One With (TOW) the garbage cat. Friends reference, anyone?**

 **Without further ado, enjoy :)**

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TOW grandmomma spider (1)

Clint was at a loss. He was at a complete and total loss. He couldn't believe it. He had finally- he did it. He found them.

Hopping up from his chair excitedly, he wrote their coordinates down on a piece of paper, in a wobbly, unstable handwriting, and quickly took off, a huge smile appearing on his face.

Then he stopped dead in his tracks as a thought crossed his mind. What if... What if they didn't want her? What if they didn't want anything to do with her? That would probably destroy her.

Cursing himself, he did the only thing he could think of: he called Peter.

A few days ago, while everyone was asleep in the Tower, Clint woke up after a fist hit him squarely in the jaw. Groaning internally, he rubbed his eyes and sat up.

He knew sleeping next to Nat was a bad idea, but they stayed up so late talking and laughing, like they always do, that he didn't feel like leaving her warm, comfy bed.

Looking at the woman who inflicted the injury, his eyebrows rose up, when he saw her drenched in sweat, her hands balled into fists. She was completely still, her teeth clenched, beads of sweat pearling at her forehead. Those were the telltale signs of a nightmare, he knew, but he was shocked, to say the least. Nat has never had a nightmare in front of him before. Never. And he's known her, like, for years.

Her body jerked awake, her eye wide with fear. The sudden movement startled Clint, who screamed, and felled on the ground, hurting his butt.

His girly scream must have pulled Natasha back from wherever her mind was, as she chuckled nervously, looking at him with tears in her eyes.

"Nat?" He asked cautiously, standing up, and rubbing his bottom.

That made her laugh some more, which relieved him. If she could laugh after this... He was pretty sure she was okay. His Nat was made of freaking vibranium.

"Yeah?" She asked him, giving her signature grin, though it looked crooked and misshapen, almost as if she didn't know how to exactly smile anymore.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" He sat down on the bed next to her and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

That was when Clint The Kitten woke up- all the commotion, and the freaking cat woke up just then. Clint rolled his eyes. Its sleep was as heavy as its mistress'.

It stretched from where it was, on the foot of Natasha's bed, and padded slowly towards her. Natasha's smile brightened a bit, as she gave him a scratch behind the ear, and he plopped down in her lap, promptly falling back into sleep.

Clint rolled his eyes, and Natasha mirrored his reaction with a roll of her own, though the corners of her lips were still turned upwards.

"It's just... My parents." Her expression broke, as did his heart.

Oh. He almost face-palmed. How couldn't he know? How couldn't he notice?

They had been on a mission during the day, and a warehouse just randomly exploded with flames, temporarily blocking Peter and Tony inside. He had never seen Natasha so panicked- nor so horrified.

She seemed rooted into place, staring into the flames, her breathing almost nonexistent.

Clint knew a panic attack when he saw one.

After Spider-kid and Tony were evacuated safely by Thor, and Natasha had snapped out of her daze, they went back to the Tower, Clint gently pulling his partner aside to her floor.

That was when they started talking, at about 4 pm in the afternoon. She explained that she was separated from her parents when their house was set on fire. She was convinced that it wasn't an accident like the official police report stated. She wasn't even sure that they were dead, and she never had the courage to go back there and relive everything, just to confirm her fear.

She knew, deep in her heart, that they were dead, and she also knew that any kind of real confirmation would shatter her. She liked to live in the uncertainty of it. She liked to imagine them alive and well, living somewhere peacefully, and happily.

The Red Room had taken her in after the 'accident', and that was why she was so afraid of fire.

He could've kicked himself for not realizing it sooner. How she would flinch away from the fireplace when it roared to life, how she would never approach it too closely. And after seeing her arachkid trapped into the flames in that warehouse, he was pretty sure that her fear had turned into a phobia.

What she said about her parents struck him as odd, though.

The next day, he relayed the information to arachkid himself, who swore he would do everything he could to find Nat's parents- dead or alive.

And they did it. Clint has found them- alive.

He immediately texted Peter a "come down to the next asap," and sat down, waiting.

He felt like he was making a horrible mistake. Natasha wasn't the… uh, purest- for lack of better words. He could describe her with many adjectives, even with his not-higher-than-average vocabulary, but he didn't think that it would make her seem like the ideal daughter- far from that.

What she was forced to become was definitely not what her parents had hoped for her. They probably wanted her to become a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, heck, even a happily married housewife- not the master assassin she was now. She could choke a man with her thighs, break necks with one hand, aim for the main arteries without any effort, and throw knives with deadly accuracy.

Yet, she couldn't hold a normal conversation with a stranger without coming off as too cold, or too bitchy, she couldn't sleep without getting plagued by nightmares, she had flashbacks all the time (though she never showed it. Clint just knows her too well), she was scared of hospitals, doctors, and labs, and she couldn't cook even if her life depended on it. She didn't even have a college degree, for god's sake.

He sighed, putting his head in his hands, and ruffling his hair. If they didn't like her, well screw them. He would kick them back to Volgograd himself.

Just then, Peter waltzed into the room with a donut in his hand. He handed it to Clint with a smile, who took it almost too eagerly.

"Well?" Peter asked as Clint wolfed down the treat like he hadn't eaten in days.

"I found them." He deadpanned, letting a small smirk play on his lips.

Peter's mouth formed a small 'o', and his eyes shined with excitement.

"No _way_ , dude! Oh my god! How- where- what?" He laughed to himself in delight, sitting down on a chair beside Clint.

The archer winked at him and flexed his muscles, taking on airs of grandeur.

"I'm awesome like that, kid. Look," he zoomed in on the screen, showing him a map of Russia. "See this?" He pointed to a region south of the country, where a bright red dot blinked steadily. "That's called Volgograd. It's Nat birth city."

Peter seemed elated to learn more about his spider momma, so he nodded his understanding and silently begged Clint to go on.

"I was pretty surprised when I found some factors pointing to them living there- honestly, I thought that they were in another country, with new names, running from the mafia. But no, they still live there. Obviously not in the same house, since it was destroyed by fire, but there nonetheless." He grinned at Peter, who returned the gesture.

"What are we gonna do now? Do we go there, contact them? What?" The young Avenger asked, leaning forward towards the archer, who chuckled.

"Let's call Fury- he likes Nat way too much to deny us this."

So, after a quick call to the director, they were invited to join him in his office in the new, reformed S.H.I.E.L.D.

They had to wait 10 minutes to be able to see the man, but they didn't really mind. They were discussing the awesome things they'll do as a family when they finally get Nat's parents to the U.S.

Nat, her parents, her kid, and her best friend. She'll be elated.

When they were finally called into Fury's office, they strutted in like they owned the place, proud grins present on both their faces. They almost looked like father and son.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" The director drawled, leaning forward in his chair, his nose scrunched up in distaste.

The two Avengers faltered a bit, but Clint recovered quickly.

"We found Nat's parents," he announced, puffing his chest out proudly.

Nick stared at them with his one good eye, not fully comprehending the situation.

"You did _what_?" He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could already feel the headache coming.

Its name was Natasha Romanoff. She will be the next in this office, he was sure, dragging the corpses of Spiderman and Clint Fucking Barton after her, demanding help getting rid of the bodies. Not apologetic in the least.

"Well, Nat had a nightmare the other day, and she said that she didn't know if her parents were really dead or not and that any kind of confirmation would probably crush her-"

"So you did the next logical thing- bring her confirmation?" Fury slammed his hands on his desk, making both men shake in their boots.

"It's _not_ confirmation! They're _alive_ , Fury! Mr. Fury, Sir." Peter Parker quickly corrected himself, but the enthusiasm was still clear on his face.

"They're alive?" The director asked them both, with an impressed raise of his eyebrows. "Huh, maybe she won't kill you after all," he added as an afterthought, making them both cringe.

"Can we, uh, maybe _borrow_ one of your jets? And go to Russia to bring them over here for a heartbreaking, emotional family reunion? Pretty please with a cherry on top?" Barton asked him, joining his hands in front of him, while Peter did his best puppy dog eyes.

Fury sighed in defeat, and the two men -children- knew they had him. "How can I say no to that."

They both cheered and ran out of his office at full speed, making their way towards the plane hangar.

Not even a few hours later, they were flying over the Pacific, listening to some dope country song- as Clint called it, though Peter was pretty sure he was going to suffer from hearing loss by the end of this hellish trip.

They took a commercial S.H.I.E.L.D jet, not a combat one, to not freak out the authorities, and to make Nat's parents as comfortable as they could.

"So, her mom's name is Anya, and her dad's name is Nikolai, and um, well, I don't really know anything else?" Clint scratched the back of his head, as he steered the plane with the other.

"That's pretty, Anya." Peter thoughtfully picked at his sweater, his feet up on the dashboard. Clint wondered if he got that habit from his spider mom.

He slapped his feet down, shooting him a glare.

"What if they don't like her?" Peter asked after a while of silence, and Clint's guts clenched painfully.

"I don't know, kid. We're gonna be with her every step of the way, okay?" He looked at the teenager, who nodded resolutely. They weren't her family for nothing.

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 **That concludes part one of TOW grandmomma spider! I haven't seen any fics with Natasha's parents alive, so I had a lot of fun coming up with this, though I was stuck with a minor case of writer's block the last few days.**

 **What did you think? Reviews make me really happy :3**


	3. TOW grandmomma spider (2)

**Hey everyone! This is the second part of Natasha+her parents! I hope you like this! The next one will be lighter, don't worry. It may involve some dad!Tony and mom!Natasha to our favorite archkid.**

 **Without further ado, enjoy!**

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TOW with grandmomma spider (2)

They arrived after a few hours, landing in the private jets lane in the airport. They took a taxi to the address Clint had scribbled down on a piece of paper.

They arrived in front of the modest house after a few minutes. It had nothing extravagant to it- not like their Avengers Villa in Malibu, or their cabin in the Alps, but it just seemed so _homey_. Clint couldn't help the tears that welled in his eyes. He wondered if Natasha was gonna cry too. He's never seen her cry out of happiness before.

Peter took a deep breath, double-checked his translating earpiece, and knocked. He couldn't speak a word of Russian, so they agreed beforehand that Clint would do the talking, while he would just listen.

They didn't have to wait too long. The door cracked open, and a bright green eye looked them up and down suspiciously. Clint couldn't help his sharp intake of breath. Natasha certainly had her mother's eyes.

The woman deemed them not dangerous, so she opened the door further, allowing them to glimpse inside for a fraction of a second. It looked like any home should look like, except it seemed to lack something. A somber atmosphere was reigning, choking the happiness that seemed to have inhabited it once upon a time. They were mourning.

Clint felt his guts clench further in sadness. He looked at the blonde woman and realized soon after that he was staring.

It was hard not to- she looked _just_ like Nat. Or rather, Nat looked just like her. The full lips, the high cheekbones, the piercing green eyes. Everything was there, except the redheadedness. Clint assumed that she took that from her father.

He cleared his throat and managed a pained smile at the woman, who looked like an older version of his best friend.

"Hello, ma'am," he greeted, bowing his head in respect.

She nodded back, her eyes narrowing at them momentarily.

"What do you want?" God, even her voice sounded like Natasha. Or maybe he was just imagining shit because this was way too much for him.

' _Get a fucking_ grip _, Barton! She's not_ your _mom! Oh boy, now she must think I'm weird.'_

Clint schooled his expression into something more serious and looked at Peter. The two men looked at each other and nodded in unison before Clint cleared his throat.

"We're here to talk to you about your daughter? Natalia?"

At the name, her eyes widened considerably, before she took a few menacing steps towards them, tears threatening to fall down her face.

Clint had to give it to her, she looked just as threatening as her daughter, and she wasn't even an assassin.

"How do you know about her?" She harshly pushed him back in her anger, and Clint raised his arms in the air, taking on an air that he hoped seemed friendly.

"She's my best friend," he gently whispered, a small smile on his face.

That seemed to knock the air out of her. She shakily took a breath, her wide eyes looking up at him.

"She's- she's-"

"She's alive ma'am. She's alive and well." He smiled wider when he saw the tentative, unsure smile of a grieving mother who wasn't grieving anymore.

It seemed like decades of worry and pain were lifted from her shoulders, and her sadness washed away in the tears that were falling from her eyes.

She sniffled slightly, then fully broke down into sobs, clinging onto Clint like he was her lifeline. Peter looked at her worriedly, but Clint just shot him a reassuring smile, patting the woman on the back.

Just then, a tall, redheaded man appeared in the doorway, his eyebrows raised at the unusual situation in front of him.

Clint looked at him with a sad smile, still holding his wife in his arms.

"Honey?" He asked her, approaching her carefully, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Oh, Nikolai!" She cried happily, throwing herself into his arms. He was certain he's never seen her so happy since… the accident. When their daughter was taken from them, never to be seen again.

So seeing her so… normal- almost free, made him tear up a bit. He shakily returned her smile, lifting her chin with his hand, to look her in the eyes.

"That smile looks beautiful on you," he softly whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

"Niko… Natalia is alive," she almost shrieked in excitement, making him snap his head up, and take a few steps backward.

"What?" He passed a hand through his tousled hair, his heart beating so fast he felt like it was going to jump out of his chest.

"This young gentleman here- he said he knows her. He said he's her best friend." She was shaking with happiness, and her husband smiled a little at her joy, though with a bit of disbelief.

"Come in, gentlemen," he said, beckoning them forward with his hand.

A few minutes later, they were seated on a comfy couch in the living room, Natasha's parents sitting in front of them, huge smiles on their faces.

Clint held the giddy feeling inside of him the best he could and cleared his throat.

"I thought you would like to see some proof." He grinned at them, pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"This was a few days ago. She was playing the piano, and I couldn't help but record it." He shook his head, a loving smile appearing on his face.

His Nat was so talented. He didn't even know she played the piano.

He put on the video, pressed play, and turned the phone towards the couple.

They watched, tears streaming down their faces as Natasha played beautifully what Clint could discern to be -with his modest knowledge of classical music- Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. Her hair was shielding her face, but her small smile was visible. Her eyes were closed like she was playing from memory.

Stark was standing in the background, his jaw slack, and Clint chuckled softly from behind the frame.

Natasha didn't seem to hear him. She continued to play, for a minute or so, then stopped, turned to Clint, and winked with the infamous Black Widow grin on her face.

The video stopped there. The couple was still staring at Natasha's smiling face, tears silently streaming down their faces.

"How- How-" Her mother tried to form a coherent sentence before she exploded into tears.

Her husband passed a comforting hand around her shoulders, but he looked like he could use some comfort himself.

"How is that even possible?" He whispered, with a hint of disbelief in his voice.

He turned to Clint, desperate to hear an answer.

"I think she would prefer to tell you herself," he answered, with a smile, though it did not reach his eyes. He knew that Natasha's past was fucked up and that she _hated_ talking about it. But he was certain that there were details she would prefer to keep from her parents.

Natasha's father had a resolute look on his face.

"I want to see her."

Clint nodded and smiled. "We have already prepared a jet for you, Sir, Ma'am. Your daughter deserves to know you."

"Wait- a jet? Who… Who are you exactly?" The suspicion crept back into the woman's voice, as she looked at Peter and Clint.

"I'm Clint Barton, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D, and this is Peter Parker. He's also an agent, and Nat considers him her son." He grinned at Peter, who returned the gesture with a sparkle in his eyes, and a slight blush coating his cheeks.

Anya looked at Peter and ruffled his hair gently. "I can see why Natalia would like you. You're adorable."

Peter blushed some more, and muttered a small "thanks," before Nat's dad spoke up.

"Wait, S.H.I.E.L.D? Does that mean-"

"Yes. Nat's also an agent. We used the tech at our disposition to find you." Clint answered another unasked question, and Nikolai nodded, understanding.

"How did she get herself entangled into S.H.I.E.L.D? With Americans?" Anya muttered to herself, looking at her husband, who shook his head.

"Who knows what happened after she was kidnapped."

Clint and Peter looked at each other. So _that's_ how she got into the Red Room. They set her house on fire and kidnapped her. The sons of bitches.

A few hours later, the group arrived at Stark Tower.

Clint was practically bouncing around in excitement, as was Peter, though Natasha's parents seemed more nervous than anything.

"Does she know we're here?" Anya asked Clint when they stepped into the elevator.

He winced and scratched the back of his neck. He knew it wasn't going to be the reunion he was hoping for. Natasha once told him that she couldn't even remember her parents' faces because of the continuous torture of the Red Room. He also knew that the couple didn't realize that their daughter was the famous Black Widow, the assassin every Russian knows about and prays never to encounter.

"She doesn't. I wanted it to be a surprise." He chuckled nervously, and Anya patted him on the arm affectionately. Apparently, she had already adopted him, and Peter, as her son and grandson.

"Thank you for this, Clint," he whispered, and her husband gave his shoulder a squeeze of gratitude.

He smiled at both of them, and the elevator doors opened to the common floor of the Avengers, where Bruce Banner was sitting on the couch, tapping away on his tablet.

"Yo, Bruce. Do you know where Tasha is?" Clint called from the elevator, putting his arm out so the door wouldn't close.

Bruce didn't even spare him a glance, too engrossed in his work.

"Training Room."

Clint nodded and pushed the corresponding button.

"Tasha?" Nikolai asked him with a raised brow.

"Yeah. She had to change her name to escape the KGB. She's Natasha Romanoff now. As much as we tried to convince her that it was a bad idea, she didn't want to change it up too much."

The couple smiled at each other, new tears threatening to come out. She wanted to keep ties with her old life. That meant that she… remembered them, at least a little. Right?

The doors opened to reveal a gigantic gym. The floor was covered in a light blue carpet. There was a boxing ring in the middle of the open space, where Steve was hard at work against Thor.

To the right was target practice, where Tony was playing with his Iron Man Gauntlets, muttering to himself.

Natasha was sitting on the bench on the far end of the room, taping her hands.

"Hey, Nat!" The Captain called her from the ring, holding Thor in a headlock. "Wanna spar?"

"I wouldn't want to hurt you, Cap." She smirked but got up nonetheless.

Thor lifted the wires up for her, and got down from the ring, grumbling to himself.

Clint kind of wished he hadn't given Natasha's parents the same translating earbuds as Peter. That… definitely was _not_ the best way to announce to Nikolai and Anya that their daughter was the Black Widow.

When said couple heard the exchange between the Captain and their daughter, they quickly exchanged looks of confusion.

The group of four stepped forward to better see the fight.

"I wonder who's better, my super serum, or your training," Steve wondered aloud, massaging his hands, and stretching.

"We both know the Red Room trained me to take down any kind of threat I encounter. I'm pretty sure I can take you down with my eyes closed," she drawled, standing with her hands behind her back, a grin of superiority on her face.

"Shut up, Nat."

And thus, the fight began- and ended, not even seconds later, with Natasha sitting on the Captain's chest, her legs trapping his arms. He tried to kick her off, but she wouldn't budge, only squeezing her legs more.

"OKAY! Okay, geez, you win!" Steve wheezed, and Natasha laughed, rolling off of him and dusting herself off.

"That will teach you not to go easy on me. I have more fun sparring with _Peter_ , Steve. Speaking of the arachkid, I haven't seen him in a while-" She turned her head towards the elevator door, apparently having heard the tiny shriek Peter let out when he heard the compliment.

She had spotted them. Shit. Clint's heart nearly stopped when he saw her eyes narrow in suspicion.

She jumped out of the ring, landing perfectly with all the grace you could expect from a ballet dancer, and prowled towards them slowly.

"Clint?" She asked slowly, her eyes never leaving her parents. "Who are those people?"

Oh no. She _really_ doesn't remember. "Tasha, those are Anya and Nikolai."

A tiny spark of recognition flashed in her eyes, but it went away as fast as it appeared.

"Honey…" Her mother's eyes filled with tears, approaching her slowly.

Natasha didn't back away, so Anya took that as a sign to hug the confused redhead.

"It's me. Your mom," she whispered in her ear, and began sobbing, drawing Natasha closer to her chest.

She was a head taller than the redhead, and Clint wondered where exactly Natasha took her smallness from. He would tease her about it later after she finished killing him.

Natasha was completely silent, her arms limp at her sides. Peter looked back at forth between the girls hugging and Clint, his eyebrows drawn in confusion.

"I'm so happy you're alive pumpkin, so happy you're alive Natty."

Natasha's eyes widened slightly at the nickname. She pushed her mother off of her, her chest heaving with short, ragged breathes.

"Oh, no, Tasha," Clint approached her, and took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Tasha, you're _not_ having a panic attack right now. This is not a nightmare, Natasha. They're here. They're really here."

That seemed to calm her enough. She looked into Clint's eyes, thanking him silently, before approaching her parents warily.

"Um- Uh…" She looked at everything but them, wringing her hands nervously. "Hi…"

"Oh, Natalia…" Her father stroked her cheek affectionately, and she didn't recoil, to their surprise. "What happened to you, Tsarina?"

She looked up at them, her eyes filled with tears. Then, she threw herself into their arms, opting to stay silent.

Clint smiled warmly at the scene and looked at Peter, who was wiping his eyes with his arm hastily. They did it.

"So... Can I call you grandmomma spider now?"

* * *

 **That was it! We will see more of Natasha's parents later on!**

 **If you liked it, please review. If you didn't, review anyway, and tell me why :3**


	4. TOW Operation BlackHawk

**Hey guys! Welcome to a new chapter of Having a family! I hope you're enjoying this so far!**

 **In this: Natasha and Clint are attracting suspicion from everyone in regard to their relationship status. Tony and Peter decide to turn it into a mission. Anya is as relentless as they are. Natasha is overwhelmed, and annoyed.**

 **This is dedicated to my awesome friend Magda! Ily and I hope you like this!**

* * *

TOW operation BlackHawk

Sweat was pearling on her forehead. The music was pounding in her ears, making her head bounce following the rhythm and her punches fall into a beat unconsciously.

Her opponent was smirking, obviously liking getting her worked up.

She smirked back, with the same intensity. Sparring was like dancing for her- an art that should be practiced, over and over and _over_ , until perfection is achieved. And perfection she had become. A long time ago too. But she never gave up on the habit.

She somersaulted backward, her smirk broadening when she saw her opponent's shocked look. She never let herself go so much unless she was listening to music.

She knew it, Clint knew it. She was dancing right now. And she was also winning. Watching Natasha Romanoff was like watching a prima ballerina perform an intricate series of moves. It left her audience breathless, yearning for more, yearning for better.

Today was no exception. Peter was standing not far away, leaning against the wall, a sparkle in his eyes. He looked up to Romanoff so much, he made Tony jealous sometimes- all the time, even, though the genius-playboy-billionaire-philanthropist would never admit that he's intimidated by the ex-KGB operative, actual super spy, _Avenger_ Natasha Romanoff. Go figure how his mind works. Not being intimidated by her is borderline unnatural.

Beside him, Natasha's mom, Anya, was standing as stiff as a board. Every time Natasha almost took a hit, Peter could see her tense up even further. She certainly still wasn't used to Natasha fighting like this, even though it's already been two weeks since they reunited the family. Peter dreaded her going on future missions. If she came back injured, Anya would have her head, along with everyone else who was there.

Natasha cracked her neck when she saw Clint come at her. She rolled out of the way and kicked him in the stomach, making him fall beside her. She stood up and smiled down at him, taking out her earbuds.

"Did I go too hard on you, Barton?" She taunted, crouching down beside him.

He sat up and rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Tasha."

She extended her hand and he took it, both of them standing up, grinning like idiots, still holding hands.

"Is there anything between them, Peter?" Anya asked him curiously, obviously glad that the fight ended.

Peter looked at the partners, who were chatting happily, still standing in the middle of the ring.

"I honestly don't know. But they _are_ really close." He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He's never thought of that before. What if… What if they were together? What then? Nothing would technically change… right?

He remembered the hushed tones they almost always spoke in, the fact that Natasha always seemed to be wearing one of Clint's t-shirt whenever she was just relaxing at the Tower. How they would always sit together cuddled on the couch, how they always seemed to be touching somehow.

His eyes narrowed further. He quickly got out his phone and texted Tony a "we need to talk asap."

Soon enough, he got a text back, saying to come down to the lab. He excused himself, leaving Anya alone, waiting for Natasha. She had promised her that they would spend time together this afternoon, and she wasn't letting her daughter back down from her word. She's been distant with them, and Anya was determined to change that. She _will_ see them as her parents.

Peter entered the lab, his mind still occupied with the thoughts of Natasha and Clint together. How didn't he notice before? How didn't _anyone_ notice before? They weren't exactly hiding it.

He found Tony tinkering with a device on his desk.

"Do you think Clint and Natasha are together?" Peter asked out of the blue, startling the engineer, who looked at him like he'd grown a second head.

"Together?" He raised an eyebrow, pulling off his gloves, and setting them aside.

Peter nodded, settling in a chair nearby. Stark opted to stand, leaning on his desk.

"As in, _together_ together. You know… in a relationship?"

Tony looked a little bit confused. "Romanoff and the Hawk? Where did you get that idea?"

"Well…" Peter was wondering suddenly if he wasn't making it a bigger deal than it was. "They're always touching, sometimes they speak in languages they know we don't understand, she's always wearing his shirts-" he was rambling and he knew it, so he stopped before he embarrassed himself any further. Maybe it _was_ dumb. Maybe he shouldn't have-

"Oh my god, you're right!" Tony exclaimed suddenly, pounding his fist in the palm of his hand. He looked as excited as he would've been if he had discovered the time travel equation instead.

"I am?"

"Yes! You're a genius, kid! How didn't I see this before?" Stark turned his back on Peter, muttering a couple things to himself, and rummaged through a drawer that Peter didn't notice was there before.

"Here," he turned back with a couple of walkie-talkies, a maniacal look in his eyes. "Operation BlackHawk is on."

Peter seriously did not know what he was getting himself into, and he was a little scared.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Anya was standing in front of the stove, adding a few ingredients to a pot in front of her, while Natasha was sitting on the counter, watching with mild interest.

"Then you add the paprika-"

"How much?"

"Hm, not much, but not too little," the mother replied, as she took a pinch of the brown-ish power, and sprinkled it into the boiling pot.

Natasha was seriously starting to get annoyed. 'Not too much, but not too little?' What kind of instructions were those? How was she supposed to _learn_ , as Clint put it while mocking her only a few minutes ago, with a teacher who wasn't even measuring the shit?

She sighed audibly, making her mother raise an eyebrow. "Don't sigh at me, you lady."

She rolled her eyes in response.

"Don't roll your eyes, either."

"Ugh, but-"

"Don't 'but' me."

"Oh, come on!" The redhead raised her arms in surrender. "What _can_ I do? Humor me, please."

"You can get me the salt and stop complaining." Anya gently scolded, looking at her daughter with amusement in her eyes.

Natasha rolled her eyes again, feeling all the bit like the teenager she didn't get to be, and hopped off the counter, trying to find the salt in the intricate maze that was their communal kitchen.

Bruce mainly cooked for them, so he was probably the one who knew where the salt was.

Before she could go out and ask him, she heard an "in the cupboard, to your right."

She looked at her mom with a raised brow, her jaw almost slacking. "How the hell do you know that?"

"First of all, language. Second of all, I've been living here for two weeks already, honey."

"You'll be good friends with Cap," Natasha grumbled under her breath while reaching for the salt.

' _Seriously? Has it already been two weeks? It feels like they just arrived yesterday.'_ She cringed to herself as she remembered having to sit down with them and explain to them in detail what happened to her -or what she could remember, at least. Brainwashing didn't exactly leave you with a lot of your memory intact- after she was kidnapped.

She didn't tell them everything in detail, of course- that would traumatize them.

She just told them about the Red Room, about the training -not the _other_ kind of training, the… _sexual_ training. That was something she never wanted to revisit again. She told them about the KGB, about some missions, the not-so-gruesome ones that she could talk about without feeling like she was going to be sick.

She didn't tell them she was Black Widow, because she wasn't her anymore. Or that was what she wanted to convince herself of. Now, she was Senior Agent Natasha Romanoff, Alpha member of S.H.I.E.L.D, and an Avenger. They didn't need to know that the fearsome legend is true and that it was their daughter who killed all those people.

When she came to the U.S all those years ago, she made the mistake of googling her alias. Boy, were there some results. Apparently, Black Widow wasn't much of a secret anymore. The Russians knew her as Nyx (the goddess of the night. She actually found that quite clever), or The Widow, and they knew her kill count. They knew her techniques, and they knew they weren't safe. All she could find on the web were stories about her and warnings not to cross her.

It had made her chest swell with pride at the time- that _was_ , in fact, the reputation she was aiming for, but now that she thought about it, she felt her guts clench in disgust. It was mainly aimed at herself, for being such a… despicable human being. _Children_ were told about the Black Widow before bed to get them to obey and comply. She was a monster in every sense of the term.

Of course, no one needed to know about that, except herself.

They didn't take it as badly as she would've thought. They had apologized profusely, and her mother had cried a little, but she assured them that she was past that, even though a voice in the back of her head cackled that she wasn't. She had shrugged it off.

The two weeks after that passed by in a blur. Her father had gone back to Russia, to sort out some affairs, and get a vacation from his job so he could come to spend some time in America with his newly reunited family. He would be back in a couple of days.

Her mother had taken to cooking for the Avengers, along with May, Peter's aunt, who lived with them. She was also very fond of their library, it seemed, and spent a lot of her time there. If she wasn't cooking or reading, she was either with Peter or trying to get Natasha to spend time with her. That obviously wasn't going so well, because the spy was doing her hardest not to be in the same room as her alone.

But, after she was cornered the day before and confronted about it, she had promised that the next afternoon was going to be spent as some mother-daughter bonding time.

She kinda regretted that now.

The salt passed, Natasha resumed her position on the counter, mindlessly swinging her legs back and forth.

She looked at the concentrated face of her mother and knew she wanted to talk to her about something important. She could read people like open books, and her parents weren't an exception.

"What?" She prompted, and her mom looked at her, confused.

"What?" She asked back, starting to mix the strange concoction. It was supposed to be chili, but Natasha couldn't see how _that_ , was supposed to become the delicious mixture. Then again, she and cooking didn't get along well.

"You have something on your mind. Spill." She crossed her arms, silently praying to whoever is out there that she hadn't discovered the Black Widow thing.

Her mother seemed to hesitate. "It's probably none of my business…"

Natasha simply raised an eyebrow, and her mother sighed.

"Are you and Clint in a relationship?"

Natasha almost fell from her counter. She recovered quickly, barking out a nervous laugh, that sounded normal for anyone else. Sometimes, she was thankful for all the Emotion Control training she received as a kid. That came in handy _a lot._

"Me and _Clint_? Really?" She laughed some more, and her mother looked confused.

"You're very close, honey."

"We are," Natasha answered, with a soft smile on her lips, only reserved for Clint. "He's my best friend," _mom._ She wanted to finish her sentence with that word, but something inside her ached, and she couldn't bring herself to say it.

" _Just_ your best friend?" Anya raised an eyebrow, smiling mischievously at her daughter.

Meanwhile, in the shadows, Peter grinned. He knew exactly who to recruit next for their BlackHawk operation. It was starting to grow on him. Stark's enthusiasm was contagious. And let's just say, they had a plan. A genius one too.

With a chuckle, he retreated back into the shadows (don't ask him how he did that, he didn't know either, but it gave him villainy vibes that made him feel cool), and got out his walkie-talkie.

"Otter, Otter, I found our first recruit. Over."

"Otter? Seriously kid?"

"Oh shut up, Mr. Stark. Over."

It seemed like he was the only one taking this seriously. But that wasn't a problem. _'They shall be married by the end of the week'_ , he grinned and made his way to his room. He had a recruitment to plan.

* * *

 **Hope you liked that!**

 **Next up: more people join operation BlackHawk. Meanwhile, a parent-teacher meeting causes Peter to seek out help from a Genius Playboy and a very annoyed Super Spy.**

 **Leave some reviews please :3**


	5. TOW the parents-teachers meeting

**Hello everyone! Sorry for the long wait, I kind of had writer's block. Writing is hard when you have that. I literally had to pry my brain open to get this one out.**

 **Also, I know in the previous chapter I said that Tony would make an appearance, but being that he's famous and all, him pretending to be Peter's dad while Natasha's his mom is a pretty unlikely scenario. Don't worry, we'll see more of our genius later.**

 **Get ready for some spider fam feels.**

 **In which: Natasha feels bad for Peter and pretends to be his mom for a day. She gains a friend in the process... And a son.**

 **Without further ado...**

* * *

TOW the parents-teachers meeting

After the hype that came with finding and recruiting people into Operation Blackhawk diminished, Peter found himself overwhelmed with homework. Living with the avengers, and generally being Spiderman made him forget that he was also an average teenager.

So, there he was, at 3 am in the morning, trying to cheat his way into finishing his chemistry work. He was looking up everything on google, but more often than not, the results would be totally unrelated to what he meant, thus making him slowly understand that actually doing the homework yourself could be faster than looking up all the answers.

Cursing silently, his pencil in hand, he was so deep into balancing an equation that he did not notice Natasha standing in the doorway, an eyebrow raised in a such a Black Widow way that it was almost comic.

"You have school in 4 hours," she deadpanned, and Peter quite literally jumped so high in the air, he accidentally got stuck to the ceiling.

"What the _shit_ , Nat, I was focused! How long have you been standing there?!" He shrieked in a way that made him sound like a 3-year-old girl.

Natasha maintained her cool. "A few minutes," she replied, before padding in the kitchen, going straight for the coffee machine.

Peter let himself down from the ceiling slowly, landing on the ground with a soft thud.

He looked curiously at Nat, who was hard at work making herself a coffee, and a cup of tea, for him, he guessed.

A few minutes later, she set his favorite Iron Man mug in front of him and sat across from him on a stool.

She sipped her coffee silently, and Peter just shrugged to himself and went back to solving his chemistry homework, well aware that Nat was reading every word he wrote.

He sighed and slammed the book shut, knowing that he was going to get shit because of it the next day. His teacher was nice and all, but he had already used up all her kindness, and then some, especially when he arrived to class 45 minutes late, and without his homework.

Nat was still silently staring at him, knowing that he was going to tell her what was on his mind eventually.

"What?" He snapped, crossing his arms on his chest.

Nat raised a flawless eyebrow. "You sound like a petulant teenager."

Peter couldn't believe his ears. "Well, that's what am I," he continued on the same tone, but Natasha shook her head.

"No, you're a sweet teenager. I don't recognize the boy in front of me right now." Her gaze softened a fraction. "What's up, Peter?"

He looked down into his now cold tea, his sigh coming out with a shudder.

"I'm not doing as well as I should in school." He scratched the back of his head, but continued talking after Natasha's nod of encouragement. "Being Spiderman is cool and all, of course, but I just- I didn't think freshman year would be this difficult. I've never had problems in school before but now I can't seem to understand a word of chemistry, biology is just a bunch of nonsense, and I got a B in math the other day. A _B_ , Nat, a freaking B. I'm useless." He threw his hands up in the air, and Nat looked at him with concern.

"Maybe you should talk to your teachers? Try to explain your situation the best you can? Ask for extra credit? New York can hold its own for a week or two, Peter. You need to take care of yourself, too."

Frankly, Natasha didn't know what the hell she was saying. She's never been to a normal school before. All she knew of the American school system came from tv shows, movies, and Peter. She was trying her best to relate, and say stuff the people in the movies would say in this case, but she found that she was drawing a blank.

Fortunately, Peter saved her from saying anything else, by gasping loudly, his face going white.

"Oh no, oh no, no, no, no. Oh _shit,_ Nat, the parents-teachers meeting. I completely forgot."

Natasha confusedly looked at him, not completely understanding what was so dramatic about the situation.

"May isn't here- shit. What am I gonna do? I don't have _parents_ , oh no- Dr. Black is going to freaking hang me by my freaking ears if I show up alone-"

"Peter, you're hyperventilating," Natasha pointed out in a steady voice, but inside she was freaking the hell out.

How do you reassure a child? She had the urge to google it.

"You should ask Stark. He would love to go." She gently suggested, but Peter shook his head vehemently.

"He's going to London with Ms. Pepper to finalize some deal or whatever," he looked at the clock, and sighed, "they're already on a plane by now."

She felt something rising in her, and she was surprised when she identified the feeling as pity. Oh _fuck_ , she was so going to regret this.

"I can go if you want."

He stopped ranting under his breath and looked at her like she just saved him from the apocalypse. She thought that, in a sense, she had. Maybe the wrath of 'Dr. Black' was a teenager's apocalypse.

Then again, she doubted that that professor was as scary as Peter made them out to be.

"You would?!" He stood up excitedly, shuffling from foot to foot, and she knew that he wanted to hug her, but wasn't sure if she would let him.

The thought made her stomach clench uncomfortably.

She shrugged nonetheless, managing a small "yeah, sure, why not?" and that was all he needed to almost hug her soul out of her.

It took her a few seconds before she reciprocated the embrace, and she thought with warmth spreading in her chest, that she could get used to this.

That was how she found herself parked in front of Peter's school, four hours later. They were in her Corvette, mainly because Peter insisted that going to school in an awesome sports car would multiply his popularity tenfold.

'Ten by zero is still zero,' Natasha thought but chose to keep it to herself.

Her wittiness wouldn't help her pretend to be his mom for the day.

Apparently, no one knew about his orphan status, and he wanted it to stay that way. He didn't want pity, and that, Natasha understood. It was mainly why she agreed to do this in the first place. That, and Peter was just so adorable that he made her want to pinch his cute little cheeks all day long.

Peter looked as uncomfortable as she felt in the passenger's seat, looking up at the school with terror in his eyes.

Maybe he was starting to realize that accepting the help of an emotionally-constipated spy was not the best idea.

"Come on, you don't wanna be late, right?" She nudged him gently, and he seemed to snap out of his daze.

He nodded resolutely, opened his door, and together, they made their way into the school.

True to his nature, James, a sophomore, whose class didn't have a meeting that day, was standing near the entrance, waiting for his prey.

When he saw him with Natasha, he did a double take. He nudged his friend, who was standing next to him and nodded towards the duo.

"No way that hottie is his mom," he whispered, but it didn't escape Natasha's enhanced hearing.

She immediately put on a smile and looped her arm around Peter's.

"Where do we start, honey?" She asked in a high pitched, caring voice, and Peter looked at her like she grew a second head.

He seemed to catch up fast though and played along with her act. "Dr. Black is in room 302."

She nodded, and let him guide her towards the person that terrified him, not before glaring pointedly at James and his friends. She was pretty sure they would never annoy Peter again.

Soon enough, they were in front of room 302, and Peter was frozen, not daring to knock.

Natasha bumped her shoulder to his and gave him a soft smile.

"Whatever he says, I'll defend you, don't worry."

Peter raised an eyebrow, then laughed. "Oh, you're gonna love this."

Then, he knocked.

Natasha was confused until a sweet, feminine voice came from inside the room. "Come in."

It was melodic in a way that almost gave Natasha whiplash.

She saw Peter look at her with a laugh in his eyes, and she rolled her own. "My fault for assuming. Let's go."

They marched in together, Peter tensing when the teacher's eyes landed on him.

The woman sitting behind the desk wasn't much shorter than Nat herself. She had long, wavy raven black hair, and her sea green eyes sparkled in the light that seeped through the windows.

She gave them a genuine, dimpled smile, and Natasha almost wanted to smack Peter for being afraid of this woman. Natasha Romanoff didn't raise a coward.

She wanted to tell him that he battled enemies ten times her size and a hundred times more evil.

But she refrained from doing so and remembered that she wasn't _actually_ his mom. She just reciprocated the woman's smile.

The doctor mentioned the two seats in front of her desk, her smile not wavering for a second.

"Hello, Peter," she said to the student who was looking everywhere but at her. "And you must be Peter's mom?"

Natasha met the woman's eyes and found herself unable to come up with an alternate name. She had one intense gaze, she must give her that.

"I am. Natasha," she introduced herself, shaking the woman's outstretched hand.

"Sophia," the doctor joined her hands in front of her on the table and cleared her throat. "You have one smart boy, Mrs. Parker."

Natasha shook her head, plastering a fake smile on her face. "It's been a long time since anyone has called me that."

Sophia's smile fell, and she looked embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"It's okay, just call me Natasha."

Nat didn't know what exactly was wrong with her, but she felt the need to see the woman's smile again. She suddenly remembered a conversation with Clint where he urged her to find herself some girlfriends. She spent all her time around men at the tower (save for Pepper, but she was away most of the time), and she had to admit that that much testosterone was draining.

Maybe she did need a female friend? Judging the woman in front of her, she seemed like the perfect pick. She roughly was Natasha's age, and looked well-off, judging by the Chanel bag that was hanging behind her on the chair and the watch that glowed on her wrist. She was also married, but she had her engagement ring looped around her neck, hanging by a chain. Her left hand, though resting on the table, was shaking.

Natasha didn't know what to make of that. Usually, she could read people pretty easily. But there was something amiss here. A detail she hadn't caught yet. She let herself observe her for a fraction of a second longer, hoping to figure something out, but was disappointed when she found nothing.

"Then, I insist you call me Sophia," the teacher retorted. She seemed to be pretty pleased with herself if her grin was anything to go by. Natasha found that very Clintesque. In other words, stupidly endearing.

She could almost feel Peter's eye roll. He wasn't very pleased with the turn of events, it seemed. She just hoped that Sophia hadn't noticed. She really wanted to make a good impression, as stupid as that sounded. Natasha Romanoff didn't need to make good first impressions. She didn't care. But, as she thought about just how _awesome_ it would be to go shopping, or to the movies, or even having lunch with another woman, who's definitely _not_ a super hero, she found that she wanted this meeting to go well. Better than well even, she wanted it to be perfect.

"You got it, Sophia," Natasha conceded, hiding the hint of a smile that was developing on her lips easily.

Sophia then proceeded to explain how intelligent Peter was, how he was the top of his class in physics (a class she taught as well), and also how polite and sweet he was.

Peter was nodding along with her as she enumerated his many qualities, a smug grin on his face. Natasha felt a swell of pride in her chest, and had to remind herself multiple times that Peter was not her son, he never was, he never will be.

Sophia's "though, we have some small issues," brought her back to reality fast. She was here to discuss exactly that.

"Peter… fell asleep, the other day, in Biology." Sophia looked at Peter with concern in her eyes, and the teen squirmed under her gaze.

Natasha sighed and found that she played the exasperated mother very well. "He hasn't been getting a lot of sleep. These past weeks have been tough on him."

"Yeah, I don't have a lot of time for homework." Peter nodded along, trying his best to sound convincing.

"Why is that?"

"Because…" The teenager took a deep breath, trying to buy himself some time to come up with an answer, but Nat saved the day, as usual.

"Because he got a job, to help cover some of the house's expenses. We've been… in a rough patch lately." Natasha even had the brilliance to add in a little pout, along with some watering in the eyes, and the lie was bought.

Sophia nodded understandingly and turned to Peter with a smile.

"Next time, you tell me that yourself, alright? We can work on something that'll save your grade."

A few minutes later, Natasha and Peter got out of the room, both with smiles on their faces, and Natasha with Sophia's number in her phone. She was overall pretty pleased with herself. She fixed Peter's problem, became friends with a stranger, squashed Peter's bullies with one smoldering look- the day could not be going better.

"Where to now?" She asked Peter, ruffling his hair affectionately.

The boy just laughed and led her to another room.

The need to ruffle his hair every time he said something cute or funny and the urge to hug him every time he felt sad did not diminish with time and Natasha found that she had no problem with that. She could use a little warm in her life.

* * *

 **Yep, that was it. Hope you liked it! Also, what did you think of Sophia? DO you wanna see more of her?**

 **Up next: Tony and Natasha get kidnapped by Hydra. Shit gets real when they're handcuffed together. Tony intends on fully taking advantage of the situation, by pestering Natasha about her relationship with Clint.**

 **See y'all next time! Make sure to leave a review, they make me write super fast :3**


	6. TOW the motherfucking basement

**Hey y'all! Finally a new chapter! Lemme tell you, it's both funny and kinda dark.**

 **Also IF YOU DON'T LIKE BLOOD, BEWARE OKAY. THANKS.**

 **In which: Natasha and Tony find themselves stuck in a motherfucking basement- handcuffed, nonetheless.**

 **Without further ado...**

* * *

TOW the motherfucking basement

Natasha woke up, aching all over. She kept her eyes closed and scanned the area around her, a habit that was beaten into her a long, _long_ while back.

She smelled the stale, stuffy air, and listened to the constant dripping of water, not too far away from her. She sensed someone pressed to her back, their arm loosely draped around her waist. Her shoulder hurt from lying on the uncomfortable mattress, so she concluded, with the helpful grumbling of her stomach, that it's been a few hours since breakfast already.

Deciding that she couldn't get anything else while pretending to be asleep and that there was no danger around her -her mind had still not fully comprehended that she was being spooned from behind. Bear with her for a moment. She's been drugged, the poor thing- she opened her eyes and blinked wearily, trying to remember what the hell happened to her.

She vaguely remembered toasting some pop tarts for Thor, since the guy would put their home on fire if left to his own devices, and making herself some coffee.

She also remembered math, for some reason. Numbers, equations, functions or whatever shit Peter was studying that morning, sitting on the table next to her.

Then, she thought she received a phone call from Fury. He had given her a mission, right, right.

… A mission with _Stark._

Oh, _fuck_. He was the one spooning her, wasn't he?

She jerked up at the thought, the effects of whatever drug she was given dissipating immediately at the thought of being in Stark's arms. _Ew. Ew. Ew._

Something yanked her back, and she found herself falling against the Genius' chest. Holy fuck, she was going to have a stroke. That was it. Spooning Tony Stark was going to be the end of her. "How did the famous Black Widow die", people are gonna ask, and the answer's gonna be "because Tony Stark was hugging her from behind".

While she wallowed in her misery, she felt the man next to her shift. He then groaned in her ear, and she had to use every ounce of willpower not to physically _gag_.

"What the hell…" He muttered, opening his eyes, and blinking the drug-induced sleep away.

After a few moments, his eyes met her horrified ones, and they stared at each other for a heartbeat, then-

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT- WHAT THE FUCK, ROMANOFF?!" He screamed and tried to put as much distance as he could between himself and the spy, but he was tugged back by the handcuffs that were connecting him to her. So _that_ was why she couldn't get up earlier.

… Shit.

She winced at his screams, covering her ears, and groaning. "Shut the hell up, Tin Can, you're gonna make my eardrums burst," she whispered and rubbed her temples.

Stark didn't lower his voice. "WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?! WHERE ARE WE?! WHAT-"

"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP," she interrupted him, yanking on their handcuffs.

He slammed face first into their mattress, and she saw him take a deep breath, and relax a fraction.

At least he was trying to stay calm, now.

"What's the last thing you remember, Stark?" She asked, carefully trying to stand up. She pulled him along with her, and he reluctantly followed her move, not without grumbling about his headache.

"Uh… I was showering with Pep-"

"Spare me the details, Christ!" She exclaimed, slamming her hands against her ears.

Stark smirked and used the handcuffs to close the distance between them. Their noses were almost touching.

"Since when does sex _scare_ you, Romanoff?"

Silence.

More silence.

Then, a loud 'smack' was echoing along the walls of the room.

She had slapped him. Nice.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?" She mumbled, turning to look around her.

They were in a basement, of some sorts. A single lamp was lighting the vast room- so vast, that she couldn't actually make out the corners of it. There were no windows or doors to be seen, and after a bit of squinting, she thought she could make out the faint outline of a trapdoor in the ceiling.

Great. Freaking fantastic. She was a 5'3" if she stood on her tip toes, and Stark didn't fare much better in that department. Between the two of them, they couldn't even dream of touching the ceiling.

She _had_ to be kidnapped with Stark. Why couldn't it have been Thor? The guy was like 7 feet or something. He was also a god with magical flying and thunder powers.

Nope, she had to get stuck with the stupid, useless guy. She missed her spy of a partner so much, right then.

"We had a mission," Stark mumbled, still rubbing his cheek, his lips twisted in an annoying pout.

"Can you remember any details?" She asked, passing a hand through her hair, trying to tame her bedhead.

Her hair was sticking out in every direction imaginable, and she willed the blush to disappear from her cheeks. It bothered her that Stark got to see _that_ side of her. It took her years to trust Barton enough to let him see her when she first woke up.

Glazed-over eyes, ruffled hair, and a tired, but a peaceful smile was definitely _not_ the Black widow. It was all her, all Natasha, and that was something she treasured more than anything.

So, needless to say, she was on the verge of murdering the poor billionaire. He didn't even ask for anything. She was almost inclined to have mercy on him. Almost.

"Um… Wasn't it in Mexico?" He scratched the back of his head, looking around him in curiosity.

She felt him freeze before she heard his tiny "what the-"

She whipped around, her defensive stance at the ready, but what she saw made her blood run cold.

Ironically, it _was_ blood, pooling in a corner of the room that wasn't visible to her before. The additional light provided by Stark's reactor was proving to be very helpful.

She slowly looked at Stark's glowing chest and gulped uneasily.

"Come on," she whispered, pulling him along.

They slowly approached the pool of blood on the floor, just at the foot of the farthest wall. Stark was firmly staying behind her, the coward.

"Can it get any brighter?" She asked him, nodding towards his Arc Reactor.

He nodded and pressed some buttons on the device, which lit up almost instantly.

That was about when the sight got even grimier.

The wall was constellated with specks of blood, both dried up and new, and torture instruments, varying from a saw to some butcher knives, were carefully hung on racks. Some were shining in cleanness, some others were dirtied with old blood, and a select few were still dripping with the remnant of their last victim.

"Oh fuck. We're so screwed," Stark whispered, taking a step back.

Her eyes raked over the pool of blood, and traced it back to its source, a few seconds later. She gulped back a gag, and turned towards Stark, looking at him with fierce eyes.

"Don't look at the corner," she whispered, taking his face between her hands.

His eyes immediately darted towards it, but she still held his head firmly in place.

"What-"

"I said, _don't_."

He nodded, a determined look on his face. She swore she could discern some fear in his eyes too, but he was doing a decent job at hiding it, she must give him that.

"I think I remember the mission now…"

" _Stop complaining, Romanoff. It's an easy get in, get out mission. You won't even notice Stark," Nick Fury coaxed, pushing a folder towards her._

 _She eyed both the director and the papers with disdain, crossing her arms on her chest._

" _Nick, I don't want to be a babysitter. If it's so easy, let me do it by myself," she huffed, glaring at him with all her might._

 _Any man would've cowered in front of a glaring Natasha Romanoff, but not the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. He had a reputation to uphold, after all._

" _It's final, agent. You're going to need Stark's tech and flight skills for extraction," he said in a tone that clearly told her to shut the fuck up and take the mission already._

 _She narrowed her eyes and opened up the file, her eyes flying over the words in a quick, practiced manner._

" _Human trafficking? Organ harvesting? Since when do we meddle in the FBI's business?" She asked, an eyebrow raised, her eyes still scanning the file._

 _Fury knew that she had it memorized by now, but she was avoiding his eyes to make the tension in the room skyrocket. It would make him answer her questions faster, more honestly. That was why she was his top interrogator. It just didn't work on him as well as it did on useless scumbags._

… _Well, maybe it did. A tiny little bit._

 _He sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "One of our agents was kidnapped. It was random. She was not targeted. She was taken by surprise going home from a friend's birthday party."_

 _Romanoff nodded, the mission suddenly taking on a whole new level. If there was an agent in there, it had just become personal. These human trafficking dicks aren't going to know what hit them._

 _Spoiler alert: it's gonna be the Black Widow's fist in their fucking faces._

"Right, right," Stark nodded while Natasha relayed her memory. "So we were taken too, I presume?"

Natasha sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "How the fuck could I let that happen… I can't believe I'm stuck with _you_ , of all people, in a motherfucking _basement_ ," she muttered to herself.

"HEY! I take offense to that, you know!" He shrieked at her and crossed his arms over his chest, but she promptly ignored him.

She took a clean knife from the wall, willing herself _not_ to look at the corner, where their target -or what was left of her- was left to rot, and made her way back to the mattress, yanking Tony along.

"Well, our mission's definitely a fail," he grumbled, and plopped down on the dirty material, while Natasha sat down in a more graceful way.

She sighed again and eyed him with disdain. "Tell me you have a way of contacting the others."

"Of course I do. Who do you think I am?" He scoffed and started fiddling with his arc reactor. "After I was kidnapped by those terrorists, I developed an SOS sender and incorporated it in my reactor, then I welded the whole thing to my chest." He proudly gestured his now beeping reactor, a haunted look in his eyes.

Natasha noticed but didn't say anything. She knew what PTSD did to a person. She understood Stark's need to find ways to protect himself. She slept with her Glock under her pillow, for crying out loud.

"So now all we have to do is wait?"

He nodded and laid back on their makeshift bed. "Basically."

They sat there in complete silence for what felt like hours to Stark but was only a couple of minutes.

He looked at his spy partner, who was sitting cross-legged on the mattress, her eyes unfocused but looking in the general direction of the corpse in the corner.

"So…" he drawled, looking for some change in her expression. He found nothing, so he took that as a positive sign -that was as positive as Romanoff could get, anyway- and continued on. "About you and Barton…"

"What about me and Barton?" She retorted, her expression blanking almost immediately.

He winced at her shutting off so abruptly but decided to use his sudden bout of courage.

"You're cute together." He shrugged in what he hoped to be an easy and relaxed way.

To Natasha, he looked more terrified or constipated than anything.

"Good to know," she nodded, and he could see he beginning of an exasperated look creeping on her face.

"Are you two… together or anything?" He asked tentatively, and all her got was a glare in response. "What? Romanoff, it's obvious you have the hots for the cute archer!"

"Stark…" she warned, but he went on.

"I mean, I see the way you look at him. With slightly less hate and anger than you have for the rest of us. It's as good as love with you!"

"Drop it, Stark," she managed between gritted teeth, but Tony just smirked.

"Oh, am I getting closer to something? Also, he makes you coffee every morning and takes it up to your room. And now that I think about it, I've never seen him take the elevator to _his_ floor, before. You can't deny that it does mean something!"

He missed the smoldering look of pure rage she was shooting him. He didn't know it yet, but she was already debating whether or not she should chop him up and add him to their target's bloody remains, or just choke him and leave him here. Oh… She has a better idea. She could saw his hand off. That way, she'll be free to move around and figure out a way to get out of here.

'Very clever, Romanoff,' she praised herself in her head, a sadistic smile appearing on her face.

Tony noticed the sudden change in her expression, and he paled a few shades. "You know what? You and Barton are two consenting adults! Haha, I don't know what I was thinking, to meddle in your business like that! You do whatever the hell you want!" He raised his arms in the air in surrender, chuckling nervously.

He could feel his sweat making its way down his spinal cord, and he shivered, goosebumps appearing on his skin. Nice, now she would think that he's terrified of her. It _was_ the truth, but she didn't need to know that.

Natasha nodded, her lips curling up in a terrifying smirk, and Stark gulped and grinned back weakly.

A few minutes passed, before…

"Seriously though, do you two fuck?"

Silence.

More silence.

Then, "GUYS! TONY, NAT, ARE YOU IN THERE?"

Natasha stood up at lightning speed, a relieved look on her face. She looked like she could kneel and praise the lord if given the opportunity.

"IN HERE, CAP!" She screamed back and passed a hand through her hair a bit hysterically. "Oh, thank god…"

Tony pouted a bit, since his question went unanswered, and stood up too.

A few explosions were heard, along with something that sounded like a muffled "I'M COMING FOR YOU, TASHA!"

Romanoff cracked a smile at that, which didn't escape Tony's attention. Oh, he had so much to tell the Armada at their weekly BlackHawk meeting next Wednesday.

A few seconds and gunshots later, the trapdoor literally fell from the ceiling and crashed a few inches from Romanoff, who didn't even budge.

A rope was dangled down into the room, and Clint's smiling face appeared from above.

"Missed me, Romanoff?"

"Shut the fuck up and pull, Barton."

Oh, _yes_ , Tony had a _lot_ to tell the others.

* * *

 **That's about it! Hope you liked it! Please review if you did- tell me what I can improve, what you want to see next, etc.**

 **Next up: it's winter break, and Tony has a surprise for the team. It includes a lot of skiing and the French Alpes. He just likes to spoil his friends, the big softie.**

 **See ya next time!**


	7. TOW the French Alps (1)

**Hey everyone! So I got carried away, which means this chapter's been split in half! Part 2 coming up soon!**

 **In which: tony stark is a soft dad for his whole team**

 **Without further ado...**

* * *

TOW the French Alps (1)

Tony was thrilled. He was really, really, _really_ excited. He's been planning this surprise for _months_. It was finally happening.

That morning, as Natasha and Clint argued over who should get the final muffin, he received a call from his lead architect, proudly announcing to him that the Project Alps was finally done.

He practically jumped in place like a maniac for a full minute, which got him looks from everyone and an exasperated 'told you we should've thrown him in an asylum when we had the chance' from Romanoff. Nice, super nice, Nat.

Grumbling about how he thought they were the best team ever and how wrong he was, he sauntered down to his lab, booked his favorite private jet, cleared his schedule, and prepared himself to call Nick Fury to announce to him that he wanted to take the whole team on a much-needed vacation.

They had just finished a very difficult mission that left them with a lot of injuries. They damn well deserved a weekend off.

The Director agreed reluctantly and got invited to join them, to which he agreed less reluctantly. Maria Hill was as welcome as he was.

He admitted that he did need some rest and that Maria has been working nonstop for a few months now.

That got Tony even more excited. He gets to spoil his team _and_ their bosses? Two birds, one stone!

He also told Pepper that their plan worked out perfectly, and she was as excited as he was. She then proceeded to pack three suitcases full of clothes. _Women_ …

During the afternoon, after working out a few things, like who would watch over New York and the world –and Natasha's cat. He had to hire a catsitter- while they were gone, he called for an Assembly in the family room.

When he walked in, he found everyone there, without fail.

Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Peter were playing Mario Kart on the Switch, Peter winning, of course. Clint was sprawled on the sofa, eating a bag of chips, and Natasha was sprawled on top of him, reading A Song of Ice and Fire.

He gave them a long look, to which Clint responded with a shrug, and Natasha with a "he didn't want to make room for me", followed by another shrug from Clint.

He cleared his throat, and his face stretched into an easy grin. He looked very relaxed and so Tony-like, except for the mischievous glint glowing in his eyes.

"I have excellent news, everyone."

The four Avengers playing Mario Kart didn't even seem to hear him, but Natasha and Clint did sit up straighter, Natasha finally getting some room to herself on the couch. She got up from atop Clint and settled comfortably in the corner of the sofa, her legs folded underneath her.

"Guys," he repeated, looking pointedly at the competing men-children.

"Give them a minute, the race is almost over," Clint laughed, cheering Peter on.

After a few seconds, a scream of victory was heard from the teenager, as his character did a little happy dance on the screen.

"HAH! Told you I was the King of Mario Kart!" He high-fived Clint and grinned at the three sulking men.

"You remain undefeated young Spider. That is truly remarkable," Thor conceded, then looked up and _finally_ noticed Tony, who was angrily tapping his foot to the ground. "Man of Iron! It is good to see you. How long have you been watching this glorious race to victory?"

"Too long," Tony muttered, massaging his forehead. "Guys, I have awesome news to tell you."

When he was sure he had everyone's undivided attention, he grinned. "A few months ago, I had this genius idea, and it's finally happening. So, you know how we were all complaining about needing a vacation?"

At their bitter grumbles and nods, his smile brightened. "Well, I… built us a villa in the French Alps! It'll be an Avengers Vacation House! And… we're going up there tomorrow to spend the weekend! Pack your bags, Heroes! Our well-deserved vacation is finally here!"

When he saw the smiles slowly growing on their faces, and heard Peter's excited shriek, he knew that it was all worth it.

"Mr. Stark, you're awesome!" Peter screamed and hugged him tightly, then ran off to his room, yelling "I'M GONNA PACK MY BAGS!"

"Tony, you didn't have to do that," Steve pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"But I wanted to, Cap. I have the means to spoil my team if I want to. So, yeah, why the hell not?"

"Wait, what about our job?" Natasha, ever the voice of reason, asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I talked to Fury, and he said that we all deserve a vacation and that he wanted to come along because he damn well deserves one too. I also invited Hill."

"Holy shit," Clint whispered, then looked at Natasha in the eyes. "A vacation."

"A vacation."

"Fuck yes."

—

"Are we there yet?"

"No."

"… What about now?"

"No."

"… And now?"

"Oh for heaven's sake, will you _shut up_ Clinton Francis Barton?!"

Natasha had finally had enough. That was it. That was as much as she could take. Clint has always been a very patient man- he was a sniper, after all, but the excitement of their first vacation in about ten years was making him an unbearable, annoying bubble of energy.

They were in charge of manning the jet since they were too proud to let a civilian pilot do it for them. In retrospect, Natasha should've swallowed her pride, took a couple of Xanax pills, and slept through the whole flight. Anything to avoid Clint's incessant nagging.

"Here, why don't you fly it for a while, I want to stretch my legs," Natasha suggested with a bit of desperation in her voice, which totally went over Clint's head.

"Anything you want, Tasha!" He exclaimed with a smile, and Natasha returned it tiredly.

She got up from her seat and stretched, letting Clint take over the commands.

She sighed happily when he finally shut up. Clint loved flying, and he always took it very seriously when he's given command of a Quinjet. Natasha didn't know why she didn't let him fly it sooner.

'Finally some fucking peace and quiet,' she thought, settling in the co-pilot's chair, folding her legs underneath her. If she could catch a few minutes of sleep, it would be just grand. And with Clint silent and focused beside her, she could finally do just that.

As soon as she closed her eyes though, a knock sounded at the cockpit's door.

It opened a second later, and Peter poked his head inside the control room.

Natasha groaned and turned to look at the sheepish boy.

"What is it, Spidey?"

"Are we there yet?"

Oh for fuck's _sake_.

—

After six more hours of flying, they finally landed on French soil. The Lyon–Saint-Exupéry Airport was big, not as big as Charles de Gaulle, but still pretty impressive.

A sleek black limo was waiting for them outside, and after 10+ hours of flying and approximately 2 and a half hours of driving, they were standing in front of a gigantic villa, with the Avengers' A plastered on its front.

"That's… Wow. Tony, you really shouldn't have-" Bruce started, but was immediately interrupted by a confident billionaire.

"Nonsense. Now, let's go in! It's fucking freezing out here."

They went inside, taking in the modern, chic decor, the huge, brick fireplace, the glistening kitchen that was open to the living room, and the spiral stairwell that led to a second, and third floor.

"Everyone has their own room, of course," Tony rambled on, gesturing towards the stairs, "your names are written on your doors. Each room's been fitted to serve your needs. For example, Bruce, your anti-anxiety meds are in the cabinet above the sink in your bathroom. Nat, you'll find a library full of Russian books in yours. I'll let the rest of you figure out your surprises. Also, the skiing gear is in the garage, along with Ski-doos, of course, and snowboards for those who prefer those."

Everyone stood speechless in front of the very proud billionaire.

"Mr. Stark, I'm gonna hug you now," Peter announced and threw himself in Tony's arms.

"GROUP HUG!" Clint screamed and joined in, soon followed by Thor, Steve, Bruce, Pepper, and a reluctant and disgusted Maria Hill.

"Come on, Tasha," Clint gestured for her to approach, but she shook her head, a nervous expression on her face.

"I'll just- uh, change," she stuttered and bolted upstairs.

The atmosphere darkened a bit, and the group detangled themselves from each other's arms to look at the now deserted staircase.

"Damn it, Tasha, when will you learn to let us in," Clint muttered, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She's a spy, Agent Barton. It's never easy for us to let people in," THE spy himself, Nick Fury, who was rummaging through the fridge, replied in a soft voice.

He found what he was looking for, which was apparently a carton of milk, and poured himself a glass.

"CAN WE GO SKIING?!" Peter suddenly screeched, positively breaking the comfortable silence that settled for a while. The Avengers were all sitting in the kitchen with the Director and his right hand, drinking milk and eating cookies like children.

Apparently, Tony had someone come over the day before, to clean the house and load the fridge with junk food and all the ingredients they would need to cook themselves something good.

The nearest town was 30 minutes by car, so going there every time they needed to eat was certainly not convenient.

"You don't even know how to ski," Steve reasoned, making Peter frown.

"But-"

"I can teach you," Natasha's voice rang from atop the staircase. She had changed into her snow gear. It was obvious that she was ready for some action. "I'm going out there for a few hours anyway."

Peter whispered a "yes!", raising his fist in the air, and hopped from where he was sitting, practically flying through the living room and up the stairs.

Natasha chuckled -she found him too damn cute- and made her way down.

Clint handed her a cookie, relieved to see that she wasn't as uncomfortable as she appeared to be when they first arrived.

"I thought snowboards were more your thing?" He asked teasingly, which got him a laugh in response.

He was glad he could elicit that kind of reaction from her.

"They are, so that's what I'm teaching him. I can't imagine anyone else doing it. No offense guys, but nobody's spent as much time in the snow as I have," she explained, sitting down beside the archer, and giving him a small smile that the team knew was only reserved for him.

Sometimes they were downright _fucking_ jealous. She was their Natasha too. They deserved cute smiles and hugs.

It took Peter 2 minutes to gear up -he chose a snowboard partly because he thought it was cool, but mainly because Natasha preferred it over skis, and he wanted to be like his spider mom- and an extra minute to say goodbye to each individual member of the team, before he headed out in the snow with Natasha.

Tony built this house far away from civilization, that much was obvious, Natasha thought while looking around her. Everything she could see was white- white hills, white slopes, white trees.

"Where do we start?" Peter asked excitedly, jumping in place.

Natasha smiled at his enthusiasm. She's never seen someone so happy to be with her and learn something from her- Clint's an exception, of course. He's always her exception.

"Why don't you just watch and learn?" Natasha suggested with a smirk, as she got into position, and slid down the hill closest to their house.

Peter watched her in amazement as she dodged a couple of tree stumps and actually jumped over a rock. She was moving gracefully like she was always meant to be in the snow. Like she was a part of it and it was a part of her. Seeing her somersault in the air and dodge a final log of wood made him feel a fraction of the exhilaration Nat was feeling at the moment.

It's been a while since she felt that free. A long, long while. Her job was always occupying her, her missions were always stressing her, and her trainees always seemed to want to fuck with her. She felt trapped in her own life, and even if momentary, this felt like a much-needed escape.

Natasha came to a skidding stop at the foot of the hill, making Peter snap out of his reverie. He looked at his board, then at her and nodded. Yeah, that seemed easy enough.

She looked up at Peter with a beam.

"You liked that?"

"Are you _kidding_?! I loved it! Wait for me!"

He ran down the hill like the devil was on his heels, and arrived in front of Nat breathless, but still smiling.

"Okay, how do I do that?"

Natasha smiled at him and gestured to his board. "Start by not hugging it and actually getting on it."

The lesson went on for a few hours. They unconsciously drifted away from the mansion in their excitement and ended up a few miles into the wild of the Alps. Neither noticed until the horizon started coloring itself with orange and pink hues.

Natasha looked up at the sky in alarm. Damn, she didn't even feel the time fly by.

Peter noticed her stop and looked up as well, paling considerably.

"Nat… Do you remember where the house is?" He asked cautiously, his eyes darting around him in fear. "Something isn't right," he muttered under his breath, feeling goosebumps appear on his arms.

Something was making his Spidey-senses go haywire.

Natasha was about to answer him that he shouldn't worry, even though she, in fact, didn't remember where the house was, when a loud howling echoed from the depth of the forest a few feet to their right.

" _We got them where we want them, now what?"_

" _If the wolves don't do the job, then the bears will."_

* * *

 ** _Oof, cliffhanger. Not even gonna give you a "Next up"._**

 ** _Love you guys! Leave your thoughts in the reviews :)_**


	8. TOW the outing (1)

**Hey y'all, sorry for the waiting. There were some life-changing events I had to attend to.**

 **Anyways, here's a new chapter. The Alps chapter _will_ be continued. Soon. Did you really think I'd give you that ending quick and easy? **

**In which: Natasha tries to make a friend.**

 **Without further ado...**

* * *

TOW the outing (1)

Natasha looked at herself in the mirror for the umpteenth time.

Her red hair was styled, hanging around her face and curling loosely onto her shoulders. She was going for the 'I absolutely do not care, but I actually really do, please like me' look. And she thought she was _nailing_ it.

She was wearing a pink dress shirt, that she had tucked in the waist of her dark pants. But they weren't _any_ pants. They were _formal_ pants. She didn't know what they were called, but they made her seem rich and hot, fitting the vibe of the person she was meeting perfectly.

She put on lipstick, for the fourth time, and leaned close to her mirror so she could make sure her eyeliner was applied perfectly.

She found out that it wasn't, and had to redo her entire right eye. Thank god she had decided to start getting ready two hours before her actual date.

Wait, no. It wasn't a date. It certainly _wasn't_ a date. Bad, Natasha, _bad_.

… And now she could not stop thinking about a label for it. A night out with a friend? That sounded like something a normal person would say and Natasha was not a normal person, at all.

Just getting a drink then? They were also eating dinner, so that wasn't it.

An outing. There it was. A perfect description of it.

"Hey, Nat! You're late for your date!" yelled Clint from downstairs.

' _Outing!'_ she grumbled under her breath, then her brain caught up to the important part of what Clint had said.

 _Late_.

Oh, crap.

She looked at herself in the mirror one last time, thinking with a panic that her eyeliner was _still_ uneven, then she took her purse, and bolted downstairs with the agility of a Red-Room-Assassin-Turned-S.H.I.E.L.D-Spy.

When she arrived in the living room, she found quite a few pairs of eyes staring at her with mixed feelings. She could see some terror, confusion, and also quite a bit of appreciation coming from Tony.

She glared at him and gestured to her face. "Eyes up here, Stark."

"But your eyeliner looks horrible. I'd much rather look somewhere else."

Natasha sighed audibly. "Oh, come on! I spent _hours_ on it!"

"Come here, Tasha." Clint gestured to the coffee table in front of him.

Natasha sat herself down on it and handed him the eyeliner, which he then applied flawlessly onto her botched eye.

"There, fixed. You look amazing, Romanoff." He winked at her with all his Clintesque charm, and she found herself grinning stupidly.

"I know, right?"

"You'll have him swooning in no time, Widow!" Cap gave her a thumbs up, not taking his eyes off the book he was reading.

Natasha cleared her throat awkwardly. "Yeah, uh, sure."

Tony narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"You should go, Nat, it's almost time!" Peter announced, taking her hand and pulling her towards the elevator.

"I still hate you for this. You know that, right?" The little spider whispered under his breath, while he hugged Natasha a bit too tightly for it to be natural.

Natasha just smirked, and the elevator doors closed behind her.

As soon as that happened, all pretenses of confidence and charm dropped.

Natasha was screwed. She didn't know how to be normal. She didn't know how to behave on an 'outing'. Last time she was out doing something remotely close, it was a date that was actually an assassination, which she nailed, might she add.

Of course, she had Clint on the roof of the building opposite the restaurant, guarding the exits. She had Bruce on a fake date with Hill, sitting on a table not far away. She had Tony in her ear, guiding her every move, and being a professional on etiquette in high society.

Now, without the comfort of an earpiece in her ear, and her best friend's rifle always trained on her target, she was at a loss.

She also had to stop referring to her date as a target.

' _Not. Date!'_

Of course, when she had received the text, inviting her to a fancy restaurant and then to a couple of drinks afterward, Natasha had not been hesitant. She had planned to turn it down gently, but Clint, who was with her when she got the message, encouraged her to try it out.

"It wouldn't hurt, would it?" He had said. "You've always wanted friends outside of the Avengers."

Of course, she did. But, did that mean that the person wanted to be her friend, too?

Natasha wasn't sure.

It was a relief that S.H.I.E.L.D valued her privacy, and her efficiency as an agent enough to not put her face in the media, like the other members of her team.

It brought a lot of advantages, like being able to go to the grocery store without trouble, while Tony gets swarmed in the ice cream isle a couple of feet away from her.

The elevator doors opened to the ground floor of the Avengers Tower, where the receptionist gave her a small smile and a nod.

That was another problem. The fact that she was terrifying.

She hailed a cab, after walking a block further down the street. She got in, and gave the name of the restaurant, trying to ignore the driver's stare on her. She repressed the shiver of disgust, and the urge to kill, and sat quietly, letting her thoughts get the best of her.

She was terrifying. That was true. If she were a normal person, and she heard of a superhero who has been brainwashed and tortured countless times, turned into a robot whose two jobs are to seduce and kill, then given the clearance level of the Minister Of Defense, in the U.S government, she would be absolutely mortified.

And yet, she yearned to tell her… 'outing partner' about her real life.

She didn't want to be Natasha, the friendly redhead. She wanted to be known as Natasha Romanoff, Avenger. Because that was who she was.

Right?

Her thoughts were cut short by the taxi stopping, and the driver announcing that they had arrived.

The crisp night air hit her when she stepped out of the cab, and she brought her blazer closer to her. She had forgone buttoning it because she wanted her blouse on display. She quite liked it.

She had had trouble finding appropriate clothes for the evening. Usually, she wore her S.H.I.E.L.D uniform, and her closet was a mess of black leather and catsuits. Nothing appropriate for an 'outing'.

She had resorted to online shopping, which turned out to be an amazing way to buy clothes without having to use her people skills, which were, obviously, not the best.

She had gotten herself the pale pink dress shirt she was wearing. She had tucked it under her professional black pants —she still didn't know what those were called, but she faintly recalled seeing a pair of them worn by some lawyer lady on TV— because Clint had told her that that was the best way to wear it. She had also bought a pair of pale pink heels, which made a pleasant clicking noise on the pavement as she walked towards the entrance of Soleil.

Their first 'outing' was at a fancy French restaurant, and you're wondering why Natasha was nervous?

She stopped in her tracks, the anxiety and fear finally catching up to her. What if she wasn't enough? What if she wasn't what was expected? What if she was hated?

Her eyes were fixed on the restaurant's name, quite big and yellow, written in a pretty cursive.

She saw people lined up below it, at the entrance, and two people arguing with a pretty blonde receptionist.

There was a _waitlist_ to get in? What the fuck did she get herself into? This was definitely above her level.

This wasn't _her_. This was for one of her fancy personas, the ones not afraid to march up the receptionist and ask to be let in.

What if she goes up to the woman, and her name's not on the list? What if it was all some sort of sick joke?

Or worse, what if she gets stood up? That'd definitely ruin the progress that she had made, that she was trying to make, to become a normal human being.

A quick glance to her watch told her that it was already 8:15 pm. She was pretty late.

She didn't want her 'outing partner' to think that she stood them up. That was definitely worse than all the scenarios in her head.

But what about the good outcomes? What if they actually become good friends? What if Natasha heals and becomes a normal person?

Resolutely, she marched up to the line of people waiting for a table, and passed them, going straight to the pretty receptionist.

"Bonsoir, Mademoiselle! What can I help you with?" She had a slight accent to her English, and Natasha found herself comforted. Her English wasn't perfect either, despite all of Clint's claims. Seeing someone else have difficulties with the language added a nice touch of confidence.

"I'm actually meeting someone. My name's Natasha-"

"Mademoiselle Romanov!" She rounded the two _ff'_ s of Natasha's name, making them sound almost like a _v,_ almost like they did in Russia, and she repressed shivers for the second time that night. "Oui, of course, the Doctor is waiting for you!"

The way she rolled her _r'_ s sounded sophisticated, and also very attractive. Natasha took note to make use of that in a future mission.

Natasha smiled thankfully at the woman, who gestured for a man to come closer.

"Christian, will you please lead Mademoiselle Romanov to table 12?"

The man smiled at her, the dimples apparent despite the stubble on his cheeks.

"Bien sûr! Follow me, please."

They walked inside, Christian gratifying her with a warm smile.

"I have to say," he started, and Natasha noticed he had the same accent as the lady out front. "the Doctor does not usually invite new people here."

At Natasha's frown, he quickly shook his head, red coloring his cheeks. "I did not mean it like that! It's usually family, is all. It's actually quite refreshing to see friends! You're not co-workers, are you?"

They passed by a bar, and Natasha felt the need to down a bottle of vodka to calm her jittering nerves.

"No, just friends."

The waiter seemed to know quite a lot about her date —outing. _Partner_. Geez, Natasha.— which struck Natasha as odd.

It all went down the drain when the waiter gestured to the right.

"There is your table! Bonne soirée, Mademoiselle!"

Natasha nodded, the words stuck in her throat. Her eyes were fixated on glossy black hair, a braid going horizontally across it like a crown. The locks suddenly whirled as gracefully as silk, and glittering green eyes and a dimpled smile shone her way.

"Natasha! You made it!" Sophia smiled at her, all sunshine and beauty, and Natasha couldn't help but smile back.

The doctor stood from her seat, and Natasha approached her slowly, eying the menu open on the table, the half-empty glass of wine, and Sophia's breathtaking black dress that hugged all the right places.

Beautiful.

Also, she's been here for a while already. Crap.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Natasha managed with a slight hitch in her voice.

They embraced quickly, and Natasha noticed that Sophia smelled of smoky wine, roses, and Chanel no 5.

"I almost thought I was being stood up," Sophia laughed slightly, though Natasha could discern actual fear and uncertainty in her eyes.

She genuinely did not think a woman like Sophia could have any doubts about her own beauty, but not everything was as it seemed, apparently.

Sophia gestured to the chair across from hers, sitting down herself.

"Wine?" She raised her own glass in question, but Natasha quickly shook her head.

"Vodka for me."

Sophia flagged down a waiter and conversed with him quietly and quickly in perfect French, which gave some time for Natasha to discreetly admire the other woman.

Her dress' neckline dipped just low enough for Natasha to discern some cleavage, but not enough for it to be suggestive, and intentionally sexy. The wedding band still hung around her neck, laced through a golden chain, making Natasha wonder why it was there at all. A wedding band was supposed to be on a finger.

It could mean one of two things: either her significant other had died, or they were separated, and Sophia was not yet over them.

Still, she did not seem like the kind of woman who stayed attached to someone despite being hurt.

Her dress was sleeveless, leaving her pale, toned arms uncovered. Natasha marveled at how firm they looked, and how scarred they were.

So many questions, oh so little time.

Her makeup was simple, yet quite stunning, and it brought out her sea green eyes. When the light hit just right, they would shine golden, and Natasha had to hold in a smile.

When Sophia's attention returned to her, Natasha quickly turned hers towards the people around them, maintaining a pretty good show for someone who's been ogling Sophia for the last few minutes.

"I know this must all be… Unusual to you, for a lack of better wording. I apologize for bringing you here." Sophia had apparently mistaken her looking around for discomfort, and she had to fix that, quickly.

"Oh, no. It's really nice! I just," she looked around, trying to find a subject of fascination fascinating enough to be convincing. "The chandelier is really beautiful."

"Crystal and bronze do make for a marvelous combination."

Now that Natasha was really concentrated on what she was saying, she could discern a very faint accent peeking through Sophia's words, like she had tried to erase it for years, but never quite made it.

"So, did Peter make a fuss about you meeting with his teacher for dinner and some drinks?" Sophia asked with a slight smirk playing on her lips like she was unsure of her move but still wanted to make it.

Natasha had to admire her boldness.

The Doctor cut the eye contact by reopening the menu and making a show of examining it, still smiling.

"He wasn't the happiest, no. But, I-" she took a deep breath. _'There goes nothing…'_

"I wanted— needed, a friend."

Sophia's head snapped back up, and she looked at Natasha with quiet surprise.

Then she smiled, no sarcasm or joke behind it. "Then, I guess you've made the right call." She took a sip of her wine, just as Natasha's waiter put her vodka in front of her.

Then, in a sultry voice, "Shall we begin?"

* * *

 **There you go! You were the ones who wanted to see Natasha in an environment not familiar to her, hanging out with someone who isn't the Avengers. So there you have it.**

 **Btw, I hope you like Sophia. She's an original character from a novel I'm writing. If you need some help picturing her better, just imagine Emilia Clarke (game of thrones) talking to Nat. Just with black hair.**

 **Up next: The rest of the date with Sophia.**


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